2: Underneath A Thousand Skies

234 This Psychopathic Demon Is Psychic (56)

They crashed again.

She was back inside his arms and there were emotions clogging up the arteries of his heart, suffocating him. Terror of losing her crawled up his spine, and he expressed it all by tightening his grip on her even further.

"Jia'er..."

He called her name. How many times had he called her name before and didn't get an answer?

Song Jia gasped. Zhao Cheng swallowed her gasp, integrating it in his blood. Soon, he couldn't even speak. All he could feel were emotions, as if he became an illiterate that lived before any language was invented. He felt possessed, and thoughts came into his mind with clarity but disappeared into haziness by the next second.

He thought, "She's finally here."

Then desire washed over him again, thick and heady, and his body was shaking to restrain it, trying to prevent it from drowning her too. His manhood was already swollen and erect, and it felt harder than bone—harder than his skull, or his teeth, even. But he paid no attention to it, just wanting to stick close to her, to prevent any gaps from separating them ever again.

He gripped her harder, holding on. His lips sliding against hers with hunger and thirst.

He thought again, "She doesn't love me."

Pain burst into his chest, but he breathed in her scent and it was gone. No agony in the world could match the emptiness of being separated away from her. Nothing was worse than existing in a world without her.

His touch burned her skin, transferring temperature. Fingers stroking and caressing, and the low sound that she released bottomed out the pit of his stomach. She trembled against him, and their lips separated again. His eyes met hers, and within the span of a blink, he found her mouth again, consuming her lips, his tongue chasing hers.

She gave a low moan into his mouth.

He lifted her up to straddle him, her skirt pooling to cover their lower bodies. He arched against hers, digging in his arousal, straining to get inside her through the clothes separating them.

His skin hungered for hers, creating the need to rub the length of his body, all of it...against hers. Song Jia slid her palms down his chest, an unconscious reaction to calm him down. Then she anchored her arms around his neck and allowed herself to be devoured.

Zhao Cheng lowered his face to her breasts, ripping away the dress so that his hands could touch them. He caressed his cheeks against them in an upward nuzzle, his tongue slowly licking the taut bud. Slow French kisses against each of the hardened plums made Song Jia gasp out his name.

Frantic for release, she ground down against his groin until she could almost distinguish the head, feel the ridge of his crown, and made him arch hard against her.

Zhao Cheng gasped. "Jia'er!"

He teased her breasts with his teeth. His hand went under her skirt, and rubbed his fingers against the swollen bud. Song Jia moaned and tilted her head backwards.

As Zhao Cheng moved his fingers inside her, the back of his hand rubbed against his own swollen desire, and he continued pumping his hand inside her, giving them both pleasure.

He could feel the wet heat of her, and smell her scent wafting in the air. It intoxicated him. He moved his mouth back to her lips and kissed her hard, swallowing her moans. He ground against his own hand and imagined that his own desire had replaced his fingers moving inside her.

He yearned to be inside her, but he didn't deserve it. He wanted to touch her all over, but one of his hands was around her waist to balance them, and the other was giving her pleasure.

Zhao Cheng kissed her mouth, and his body continually rubbed against her. No matter how close they were, no matter how much their skin touched, he felt that it would never be enough. He wanted to become even closer.

When he felt her muscles tense around his fingers, he knew that she was close. He pushed into her, thrusting his hips against her, and heard her breathing accelerate. He pressed himself against her, wishing he could join their bodies together. He moved his hips faster, copying the rhythm of his hand.

Zhao Cheng pulled away from the kiss to watch Song Jia as she reached her climax. She rocked back and forth, shoving herself against his hand. Zhao Cheng bit his lip, feeling as if he was about to go crazy. Her climax always drove him to the edge of reaching his own. The sight of her face so overwhelmed with pleasure, the sounds she made, it was where most of his pleasure came from.

As long as it was her, she would always be able to undo his tight rein of control. Just the sound of her heavy breathing would speed up his orgasm, while moans were directly fatal. When having sex with her, just being inside her, seeing her reaction with his every movement, it was enough to make him surrender and release.

Just like how it was now.

Zhao Cheng watched as Song Jia shuddered from her own climax, releasing a low moan. As if it was a signal, her voice bursting some tightly secured dam inside him, he felt an abrupt rush of his semen racing through his body, a river of pleasure that didn't slow down but spurted out without stopping.

He finally slid out his fingers from inside her, dragging a long line of sticky fluid.

Zhao Cheng grabbed hold of her bottom, instinctively afraid that she would leave him, and arched towards her as he came. For a split second, he was tempted to insert her with his own member, so that her body would accept his heat. He wanted to leave traces of himself on her, inside her.

He wanted to paint her insides with his own essence.

But the momentary impulse of greed dissolved, and his hips lunged towards her, spilling out his seed. There was almost an overwhelming abundance of it, soaking his pants. Even when separated by their own clothing, their wetness plastered their genitals much closer to each other, all hidden under Song Jia's skirt.

Zhao Cheng shuddered, feeling as if all energy had been drained from his limbs. Even then, he was still discharging a long unbroken ribbon of semen, as if his body wanted to drain everything out of him. He jerked erratically against her, his body still seeking her heat. But he noticed after his orgasm ended that his erection didn't soften, it was even much harder than before.

He paused to catch his breath and looked at Song Jia, no longer paying attention to his own body.

"Jia'er." His voice was hoarse.

Song Jia's chest heaved up and down. She buried her face into his neck, almost afraid to show him her face. She only wanted to kiss him, but somewhere along the way, she lost control.

Every time she transmigrated and met the male god, it would always become this way. She would complain about his stamina and how hungry he was, but in the end, it took two hands to clap. A while ago, she even wanted to beg him to replace his hand with his own member because she still felt unsatisfied.

Song Jia wanted to cry, but had no tears.

Thankfully, she had some sense left. That swollen brother below was so big, if she really said those words earlier, it would definitely be her last words in this life.

Wuwuwu, this grandma almost courted her own death, ah!